


Hunger Games

by Umi (umichii)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Crazy Varia antics, Gen, Varia - Freeform, Xanxus wants steak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umichii/pseuds/Umi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Belphegor - psychokiller; “I kill people when they’re not polite.”</p><p>These two idiots just can’t understand the fact that he, the Chief Commander, gets the damn blame for every single fuck up they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger Games

**Author's Note:**

> Written for khrfest 2010.

Blood stains every inch of surface of the underground parking lot. Squalo glances at their handiwork with an uncharacteristic frown. Something doesn’t feel right. There’s something out of place.

“Hey, brat,” he yells at Fran, who was perched on a fallen beam, poking every dead body he comes across for boxes. “Where the fuck is the crazy prince?”

“No idea,” comes the singsong reply. Squalo grits his teeth in annoyance.

“He must be upstairs getting rid of the others.”

Squalo glares at their new recruit, who just shrugs under the burning stare. “Better be glad the boss finds you useful, you fucking brat.”

Growling, he turns away to find Bel. That crazy kid better not do anything stupid.

 

\--

 

Don Ricardo Amalfi knew something was not right when he entered his office that was devoid of any bodyguard and light. He tried the switch, but the light remained out of power. The lightning and thunder outside was his only source of light, and after a great flash, his worry grew when he realized everything was arranged too orderly—even his things that he had left in disarray.

He shivered in fear. When he felt a cold draft of air in the sealed room, he began to shake in terror. They must have arrived already.

Trembling hands grabbed for the handgun hidden in the first cabinet of the desk. But before his fingers could completely wrap around the cold metal, a great shadow loomed over him. 

Jerking away, Don Ricardo ran to the opposite side of the room, gun lying forgotten on the floor. 

“W-Who are you?” 

The stranger only grinned, the rest of him hidden behind the curtain of shadow. Then another flash from outside; Don Ricardo screamed in terror. 

The young man—his would-be killer, he realized, if he didn’t escape _now_ —made a ‘tsk’ sound, frowning disappointingly at him. 

“That was not really nice, Mr. Pigface.” 

Then he smiled wildly and brightly and it was all Don Ricardo could do not to squeal. His mind raced in chaos, thousands of thoughts colliding against one another until nothing remained but confusion, and in such a state he demanded the young stranger to leave. 

The young man wasn’t pleased. The smile disappeared. All that remained was a blank face and a gleaming arc floating behind him like a pair of surreal wings. 

“I do not like people who are not kind to me. Do you know who I am?” 

Something from the arc glinted a speeding ray of light came towards him. In the blink of an eye, something buried deep into his thigh and he screamed, and he screamed again when another one followed. 

“I am a prince, and no one disrespects me.” 

The pain seared every part of his body. Never had he felt so warm yet so wet at the same time. 

“Do you know what I do to _very_ bad people?” 

He shook his wildly. He must have pissed himself in fear, yet he didn’t care, not when that face was grinning maddeningly again. 

“I eat them.” 

He screamed. Those were the last words he heard before the thunder made its last roar, blinding white then turning into nothing but black.

 

\--

 

When Squalo arrives at the mansion’s main hall, he feels like he has stepped into a scene straight from a horror movie. Everything is too quiet, too still. Worse, there is no Bel in sight. 

“ _Voi_ , you sure he went here?” 

“ _Yessu_.” 

Squalo ignores the urge to stab the annoying brat in the face and instead focuses on searching for Bel. There is a damn good reason why they have the ultimate rule of never leaving Belphegor alone. One, it means letting a psychopathic assassin on the loose, and two, _someone_ has to deal with the annoying froghead because the froghead only goes to mission if said psychopathic assassin does. He has no idea how the fuck their trash of a boss allowed this when he won’t even eat steak that isn’t fucking Angus. 

Squalo despiseshaving a mission with either of the two idiots. He’d take a glass to the head than be left for a whole night—or worse, a _week_ —with them. He isn’t Lussuria who was built to handle morons. He isn’t Levi who’s already a moron with the brain of a twelve-year-old. For fuck’s sake, he is the fucking Sword Emperor of the Varia. 

“ _VOI_! Get the fuck out here now you bloody damn idiot prince!” 

“Wasn’t that a bit redundant, Chief?” 

“Shut the fuck up, brat.”

Resisting another urge to dice the stupid frog there and then, Squalo trudges on deeper into the mansion, ground floor first. Best to find the Don’s office. Bel would most likely be there. He has no doubt Bel surely ran after the old man for some cat and mouse game. 

Squalo stops only when the scent of blood permeating the hall becomes too strong, and this time he’s certain his senses aren’t just imagining it. 

He turns to the useless frog absently. “What are the chances of Bel mincing the old trash already?” 

Fran yawns in response. Damn cheeky moron. _Should have killed him before Boss thought of sparing him._

Following the coppery scent, Squalo arrives outside the door second to the last of the west wing. A large patch of blood has already stained the carpet black, and there’s more coming from beyond the shut double-doors. 

In the classical Squalo tradition, Squalo kicks the door down, sword arm waving in the arm. It’s the best way to ready himself mentally to whatever sick artwork Bel has made out of their target. 

Their prince is sitting on the large desk occupying almost the entire window side of the room, knives everywhere on the floor. There’s no body in sight. Squalo’s annoyance slowly turns into anger and then rage. 

“What the fuck have you done, you stupid moron.” 

Bel grins and laughs his usual laugh. Behind him, Fran whistles loudly. 

 _Don’t be so damn happy, you stupid frog_. Squalo mentally swears, every possible scene of a furious, tantrum-throwing boss coming into mind. These two idiots just can’t understand the fact that _he_ , the _Chief Commander_ , gets the damn blame for every single fuck up they do.  He, Superbia Squalo, the _fucking Chief Commander_ , gets the whiskey glass to the head every damn time they decide to be a bunch of baboons. 

“I’m a prince, you commoner.”

“ _Fine_ , you stupid moronic _prince_.” Squalo growls, hands perched on his hips. If Lussuria was here, that disgusting peacock would be laughing his ass off already. “Where the fuck is the trash?” 

Bel grins, and Fran whistles again.

 _Fuck._ Goodbye, another good night’s sleep in a soft bed. 

“My tummy.” 

 _Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!_ Has _anyone_ ever realize they need the head for proof's sake?

“What did he taste like?” the stupid froghead asks. 

“Like shit. He’s nothing but fats. I think I ate a diseased liver.” 

Squalo bites back a scream. With all force he could muster, he grabs both of their heads, and ignoring flailing limbs and bodily threats, he slams the two heads together. Thin lips crack into a wide grin at the sound of crashing skulls as he watches the two idiots howl in pain. 

“You idiots are going to fucking explain this to the boss. I am _not_ explaining a single shit of this. Am I fucking clear?” 

The painful, almost dying groan from the two is almost enough to appease Squalo. 

Now to look for that good slice of beef...


End file.
